Beth whispered as her dirty fingers nudged the bottles wedged in the narrow cabinet.

Extract of … something.

Tears salted her lips.

Allspice, basil, coriander, fennel, foxglove, garlic, hellebore.

“Elizabeth, bring me those spices!” Her stepmother’s voice stabbed at her from the kitchen above. Beth bit her lip, glancing at her brothers confined to the dank cellar. “This stew won’t season itself!”